The Unspeakably Fantastic Life
by Egusi Soup
Summary: A select few of the "Eighth Year" students who have graduated have been chosen to be among the Unspeakables. Harry is one of them. He just wished they'd told him before he joined that the job included slimy Slytherins, a narcoleptic Ravenclaw, a former Gryffindor obssessed with Dark Arts and Neville. Drabble fic.


1 - the Unspeakably Ordinary Intro

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"So…what now?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's lack of tack, but couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face at hearing his words. The Boy-Who-Conquered shrugged. He'd been asking himself that very same question since the ceremony had ended and the reception had started. What will happen once he left Hogwarts? Ron was in the same boat as him, Ginny still had a year of school and Hermione wanted to do Ministry work and find out how to be an Unspeakable. Personally, he didn't know why she wanted to be what no one knew a thing about, but she simply told him that she had a theory that they delved into unknown magic and discovered things people could only dream about. Knowing her, such a job was a dream.

"I don't know, mate," Harry said once he tore his eyes away from the multitude of people that had turned up just to see them graduate – to see _him_ graduate. He'd cast a notice-me-not charm on their table and that was the only reason why he wasn't being mobbed and congratulated to death. He turned to his red-haired friend and watched him eat with horrified fascination. "I swear, where all that food goes is a magical mystery!"

"Stuff yourself," Ron grunted in response. He swallowed whatever was in his mouth and made a grab for a goblet of pumpkin juice. He stopped after his drink and simply leaned back and began to people-watch. "Life blows."

Harry snorted into his own goblet and raised an eyebrow at Ron. "It does for me. What could you possibly be griping about?"

"Says Magical Britain's Savior," Ron shot back, scratching his head with a familiarity that nearly tipped Harry over. Harry observed him, not quite sure why he was suddenly so fascinated with habits Ron's had for years. "Nobody's banging on my door for my magical prowess and no one's seeking me out for my intelligence. I mean, I might have gone into Quidditch, but I'm two years out of practice."

Harry froze, startled, unsure of when the conversation had taken a serious turn. He set his goblet down with a frown. "You could always work with George. The shop might need-"

Ron stubbornly glared at Harry, daring him to continue. "That's Fred's job. I'm not going to take Fred's job."

Harry hesitated for a second, but said, "I'm just pointing it out, Ron. The WWW is always there if you're looking for something."

"George and Fred run that shop," Ron said in a small voice, sounding quite unlike his regular, loud self. "I can't get between that. Besides, I want something of my own. I want to be different with an achievement that's all mine."

"Fame, Ron, really? That's what you want?" Harry asked him, irritation at his best friend of eight years flaring up to greet him. "I thought being a War Hero was fame enough. Let's go take out another Dark Lord, hmm?"

Ron ignored Harry and took another sip from his goblet. "For one thing, Harry, the only Hero around here is you. I didn't blow Voldemort up into a mess of sparkles – _you_ did. For another, shut up. Bill's at Gringotts, Charlie's with dragons, Percy is the bloody Undersecretary and the twins have their shop. I want to carve my own path somewhere. I don't want to be a scrub working under my brothers."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that so he stayed silent and kept his even green gaze on the colorful crowd in front of them. He guessed he understood. What Harry wanted out of a career was possibly just as complicated. He didn't want to be a Ministry lackey and he didn't want to be anywhere near Gringotts. Griphook's betrayal still burned and the goblins didn't really like him since he proved he could break in and out when they previously lauded no one could. Quidditch – he hadn't played since his sixth year. Who would he play for if he decided to go professional? He'd had enough of fighting and hurting people – the Aurors would have to check in much, much later when the wounds were stale and old. Being a Healer was out of the question because he'd think of Madame Pomfrey and, well, being like her wasn't on his agenda.

Everything else didn't catch his interest. Teaching might have grabbed his attention, but he wanted to leave and explore the world. Hogwarts had been the center of most of his life. It was time he tried to find new things.

"Harry! _Harry_! Our names were just called!" Ron's voice cut into his reverie. The dark-haired youth snapped his eyes up, looking towards Ron who was suspiciously eyeing two men who stood at the entrance to the Great Hall. Behind them stood McGonagall, whose bemused expression would have sent Harry and Ron into fits of laughter at any other time.

He cancelled the charm over their table with a simple wave of his wand and almost instantaneously all eyes were pinned on them.

"Ron," Harry quietly muttered. "They called our names for what?"

Ron shrugged and began to pick up his things. "Don't know, mate, but let's check it out. Couldn't hurt, could it?"

"And if it's a trap?" Harry asked as they slowly made their way through the silent crowd. He tried to think of all the reasons why they'd be called out by two unfamiliar men, but could only think of bad ones.

"Sparkle Blast him, Harry." Ron grinned. "Worked against the last dark lord you tried it on, didn't it?"

"Idiot," Harry muttered, before he quickened his pace through the path that had cleared for them. He stopped before his former teacher and the two men with a tired grin. "You called?"

McGonagall pursed her lips and motioned towards the doors to the Great Hall, "My nephews would like to meet with you and a few other graduates outside. Go on ahead. James and Armand can be vouched for by me."

Ron and Harry's eyes nearly reached his hairline, not at all recognizing their names as he took in their appearance. Both were in black robes with light-red almost pink trimming. One was shorter than the other by a whole head, but he didn't hold himself any differently than the older one did. Both had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, looking quite identical. The shorter one had a patient almost grandfatherly smile on his face. The taller one looked irritated and bored. Both had an Order of Merlin, Second Class badge pinned to the front of their robes.

Both men only glanced at them before turning their attention back to the private, heated conversation they were having. That was when Harry realized he couldn't hear a word they were of what they were saying. Ron wanted to say something more, but the glare McGonagall quickly leveled at them was something he hadn't seen since he lost Gryffindor fifty points in one night.

Both Gryffindors walked out the door with their heads down, ignoring all calls to their name from the crowd behind them. Ron looked back when he thought he heard his girlfriend's shout, but the door closed behind him before he could see anything. Both were surprised to see Neville, Stephen Cornfoot, Daphne Greengrass and a stony-faced Malfoy standing off to the side.

Harry wanted to greet Neville and Stephen, but didn't want to seem rude by not acknowledging the others. Ron had no such qualms.

Harry could only wince when the blonde Slytherin girl shot Ron a withering glare and brought him down with an icy demand for silence. He tried not to grin when his friend glared back but acquiesced to the rude demand.

However, Ron couldn't stay silent for too long.

"Any idea what we're out here for?" he blurted out before the Slytherin girl could shut him down again. He ignored the frown she gave him and looked at Neville for an answer.

"Read up on your pure-blood history, why don't you?" Malfoy snapped from his position a little ways away from them. He didn't meet any of their gazes as he said, "Both of them are the Urquharts. They're related to McGonagall through her late husband, Weasel."

"And how would you know that?" Harry countered when it looked like Ron was going to pretend the young Malfoy heir didn't even exist. Hermione had tried to get him to drop the attitude over the last year since all of them had to live in the same dorm room, but Ron simply found it a lot more fun and certainly a lot much easier to act as if Malfoy had never even existed. To Harry's knowledge, the attitude chafed the blond in ways no one ever thought it would.

Neville interrupted before something could start and spoke in a calm, easy voice that diffused whatever temper might have interrupted at what would have been Malfoy's acerbic response. "The shorter one was wearing their Head ring – he's James Urquart. The other one must be Armand Urquart. No one is quite sure why Armand isn't the Head; he's the oldest brother. But both of them are supposedly only seen when there's a Wizengamot meeting."

"Observant, aren't you, Mr. Longbottom?"

All Heads turned towards two amused Urquarts, the taller one (_Armand,_ most of the teens there had to remind themselves) was grinning at them, reminding Harry of his late godfather, and James only had a slight smile on his face as he appraised each of them.

Neville smiled, although it was a bit shaky. "My Gran made sure I knew my – uh, history. Says it's good to know…"

Armand snorted, but James nodded approvingly. Then he gestured towards a blank-faced Daphne Greengrass and a curious-looking Stephen Cornfoot.

"Congrats, new grads!" Armand Urquhart said in a booming voice. "You've been chosen to be Unspeakables!"

Harry and Ron gaped.

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A/N: Hello! I've had THIS idea stuck in my head for years. So... um here it is!

Lol, I adore Ron even though Fanon has vilified my poor ginger-haired baby. I mainly wrote this fic so I could treat him well. Thanks!


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